


just skim them for the dirty bits

by persephassax



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, Dominant Armitage Hux, First Time, Han Solo is a Good Dad, M/M, Suburbia, Teen Angst, Underage Drinking, Virgin Kylo Ren, except i never got laid, goth kylo, leia is a good mom, prep hux, she's just busy, this is a weird pastiche of my high school experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 04:31:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14417733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephassax/pseuds/persephassax
Summary: Kylo just wants to get through the end of the year and get out of the suburban hell he's grown up in. But when Armitage Hux takes an interest in him (or his motorcycle, it's hard to tell), things heat up and Kylo gets a little more than he bargained for.





	just skim them for the dirty bits

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i can see through you (see to the real you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10994244) by [kyluxtrashcompactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor). 



> Title comes from [ASW 1099](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=1099).
> 
> This idea germinated from the summary of a kylux kink prompt: "flip the prep / bad boy trope on its head." (filled more accurately and more completely by kyluxtrashcompactor, please go heap praise upon them.)
> 
> Rather than the role reversal (flipping who gets to be good and who gets to be bad) I've flipped the expectations of those roles. The idea ate my brain and I had to get it out. 6000 words later, here we are. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

Kylo kept his head down in class. He sat at the back and usually let his hair hang around his face while he drew in the notebook he carried from class to class specifically for that purpose. Sometimes, if it came to him, he'd write a few lines of poetry. It was embarrassing to think that someone might read it, if they found the book though, so he kept it to a minimum. He was currently working on a series of spooky little trees. It was a nice change from the battery of aliens, zombies, body modification, and body horror that had occupied him of late. 

 

The teacher was asking about the usage of the epistolary form of the novel they were reading in class. Kylo knew he could raise his hand and talk about the un/reliability of the narrator, the way the epistolary format in the gothic can be said to pre-figure the found footage horror movie. But he doesn't feel like having everyone in the room stare at him. They do it enough, because of his hair, and his painted fingernails, the eyebrow piercing and the black clothes. He doesn't want them staring at him because he's smarter than them, too. 

 

At the front of the room, the teacher calls on the only person who raised their hand. Kylo keeps his head down, pen to paper, but looks up, letting his eyes run over the red hair and pale skin at the nape of the neck, listen to the posh affected tone of the accent. Armitage Hux is saying something about the un/reliability of the narrator, the tradition in the gothic of the personal narrative. Kylo is only half listening. 

 

Armitage Hux is, objectively, good-looking. He doesn't have a football player's brawn nor does he have that fae androgyny that some people find so appealing. But his skin is clear and pale, his eyelashes appear white and delicate when they catch the light, his hair is flame bright and just as captivating. He's on the track team and he was elected class president and he's probably going to be Valedictorian. To top it all off, he's got this unbearably snobby and nonetheless ridiculously charming English accent. Kylo isn't sure what his dad does, exactly, but they moved here from England just before they started high school and Kylo imagines that he was at Eton or Harrow or something fancy and English and upper class before he ended up stuck here, among the plebs. 

 

The teacher thanks Hux for contributing to the discussion and launches into her own answer to the question she posed to the class. Hux leans back in his seat, one hand taking notes, but his shoulders settle into a self-satisfied tilt. Luckily, the bell rings and Kylo can snap his notebook closed and start putting his things away. Around him, his classmates already have everything put away and are swing their bags up over their shoulders as they shuffle their way out in a herd. 

 

Kylo is sticking one of his earbuds in his ear, letting the other hang out the collar of his shirt, fumbling for the iPod stuffed in the pocket of his skinny jeans. He's almost got everything settled as he's walking past the teacher's desk, at the front of the room, when she says, "Ben, I'd like to talk to you for a second."

 

He stops, still facing away from her, takes a deep breath, irritation prickling under his skin. Pulling the earbud back out, he grits his teeth and turns. 

 

"I prefer Kylo, actually," he says to her. 

 

"Right, right, I'm sorry. Kylo. I'll be quick," she leans against the side of her desk. She's shorter than he is by nearly a foot. She's got blonde highlights dyed into her brown hair, reading glasses in one loose fist where here arms are crossed across her chest. Her face is only just starting to show lines around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. "I'm worried that I'm going to have to  dock your grade in this class because of participation. I know you know the answers to the questions I'm asking. Your insights into material would contribute a lot to the class discussion and your classmates' understanding of the literature we're working with. Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable speaking up?"

 

She's looking up at him, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. He suppresses a sigh. 

 

"I don't have anything really to add," he says, monotone. He hates this. He doesn't want to explain himself to her. She doesn't get what it's like having everyone stare at you all the time. It's bad enough that half of his classmates remember the time in sixth grade that his parents got into a screaming fight about who was supposed to pick him up when they both showed up to get him during a trial separation. Nothing like having your State Senator mother and her shop mechanic husband duking it out in front of your classmates, their parents, God and everybody. 

 

"Just think about it, Kylo," she says, special emphasis on his name. "I don't want you to take home a lower grade just because you won't speak in class. I know you're capable, but I need you to show it." 

 

He nods at her, mutely, hoping it'll be enough to get out of here quickly. She smiles at him and waves him off. 

 

+++

 

At lunch they're allowed to sit outside thanks to the nice weather they're experiencing. Kylo sits in a little traveled corner, under a tree. He plucks at the grass by his feet and half-heartedly eats the sandwich he made with the groceries Han brought home in the middle of last week, after the fridge had proven to be totally empty. His mother is in the capitol, working, so it's just him and Han rattling around the big, empty house together. Sometimes Uncle Chewie comes over after he and Han close up the garage, but Kylo spends most of his time in his room. 

 

He's got his notebook and the book he picked up from the library at random piled next to him. But mostly he's looking over towards the stairs going up to the school where the popular kids are gathered. They're a loose congregation of semi-sporty kids and student government representatives. They wear a few different variations of the clean-cut suburban uniform. Kylo knows it's mostly for show. He hears about the rangers that happen on the weekends, the blackouts, the hook ups, the minor property damage. He's never been invited to one. He's not sure he would go, even if he was.

 

He grabs his notebook and writes down a little phrase "your khakis don't show the dirt / the way you looked / the stains from what you took" and another one "all of daddy's booze / the way your mouth looks, used" and he tries to tell himself he isn't thinking about what he overheard in the locker room after gym class about Hux's drunken proclivities. He thinks the Knights of Ren (the tight knit inner circle he's a part of online, they IM and read each other's blogs, they talk about art and how much it sucks to be in high school) might like it. Maybe they can make a little poetry book. That would be fun. 

 

+++

 

Kylo's putting his helmet on, leg thrown over his bike. The one good thing about his mother being out of town so often; she isn't there to yell at him or at Han for the small motorcycle his dad gave him for his birthday. Han had this sad look in his eye when he handed over the keys. He was extra gruff when he clapped Kylo on the shoulder and nodded to him. Han is always letting him get away with stuff his mother would never allow, but Han is always there, has been ever since he was little. Kylo is checking the straps on his bag, making sure everything is comfortably seated, when someone clears their throat behind him. He looks over his shoulder, only to see Armitage Hux standing there, a smirk on his stupid, symmetrical face. 

 

"Nice ride," he says, and Kylo is momentarily distracted by his accent, and it takes him a second to recognize the compliment.

 

"Oh, yeah. Thanks," he says, feeling awkward. What is Hux doing here?

 

"I'd love to see how she handles," he says, his eyes still locked onto Kylo's face. Kylo can feel himself flush. That sounds like a line, like a pick-up line, but that can't be right. But then, unbelievably, Hux continues, "Maybe you can show me some time… Take me for a ride?"

 

Kylo goes beet red. Heat immediately pools in his crotch and he can feel his skin prickle. There is no way Hux just said that. 

 

He takes a breath and says, "Yeah, I- I guess." 

 

He can't believe he just stuttered, making an ass out of himself, but on the other hand, he isn't sure he isn't hallucinating right now, either. 

 

"Promises, promises," Hux says, and he steps back. Kylo has to whip his head around to follow the other boy as he crosses behind him, moving further down the parking lot, to the car two spaces over, getting in on the driver's side. He keeps staring, watching the car back out and drive away before he realizes that he hasn't even started his engine. 

 

+++

 

His dad takes that weekend off, tells Kylo he'll be watching the game, and that they should get take out for dinner. Kylo makes the right kind of affirmative noises, but he feels wound up, and staying in is making him antsy. So he yells something about heading out on his way through the front door and hops on his bike to head into the town "center". In reality it's a tiny strip-mall with a stretch of greenery across the street from it. He parks semi-illegally near the building, along the edge of the parking lot, and heads into the Starbucks. 

 

He orders himself an iced coffee, gives his name as Kylo, and ignores the eye roll he gets from the girl on the register. He thinks he recognizes here from school, but she's clearly a bitch so he resolves to forget about her as quickly as possible. He didn't bring his laptop or anything, so he grabs his coffee and sits on the curb outside. He's got his headphones in, and he lets himself soak up the sun. He's ready for it to be summer. He doesn't want to think about the end of the school year, the way his mother's phone calls will increase as the semester comes to a close, asking Han to put him on the phone, so she can worry at him about his grades. None of it matters, the college stuff is all in, anyway. But summer is just one step closer to getting out of this place, away from these people. He's just so over it. 

 

He's got his eyes closed, leaning back on one hand, legs stretched out in front of him when someone decides to stand in between him and the sunbeam that had just started to be the perfect warmth. He scowls and opens his eyes. 

 

Armitage Hux is standing over him. He's got his hands in his pockets and Wayfarer sunglasses on. He's got that smirk on again, and he looks like an asshole. A really good looking asshole, but still. He's wearing a polo. Kylo stares up at the dark lenses. 

 

"Hey," says Hux. Kylo waits. He can feel his heart beating harder than usual in his chest, he hopes his cheeks aren't flushing and giving him away. But he's not going to embarrass himself any further in front of Armitage Hux, of all people. 

 

"Hux!" comes a voice from further along the strip. Kylo can make out Phasma's blonde hair. 

 

Hux doesn't look over at her. He flaps a hand in her direction, instead. 

 

"Yeah, just go, I'll be fine," he calls out, his face never moving, Kylo wonders if Hux is staring at him. In a much lower voice he says to Kylo, "Any chance you can give me a ride?"

 

It doesn't have the same innuendo it did in the school parking lot. Given that Kylo can hear someone pulling out of the parking lot, something loud and throbbing spilling out of open windows, he's pretty sure that Hux doesn't have another way of getting home. 

 

"Do I have a choice?" Kylo asks, after a moment. 

 

"We always have a choice," Hux replies. He licks his lips. "But I'd really appreciate it." 

 

Like that, the innuendo is back. It makes him nervous. 

 

"Okay," he says. Hux's expression doesn't change but he asks, "Okay, what?"

 

"I'll give you a ride," Kylo says. He still has half his coffee left, but he isn't really interested in drinking the rest. He pulls his earbuds out and pushes against the edge of the curb to stand up. When he straightens, he realizes that he's standing closer to Hux than he's ever been before. He realizes that he is ever so slightly taller. 

 

"Come on."

 

He leads Hux around the side of the building, to where he'd left the bike. He opens the seat and pulls out his extra helmet. Han made him promise to keep an extra, just to be safe. He did it, even though he was sure he'd never need it. He tosses it to Hux, before putting on his own. He grabs the handlebars and pushes the bike off it's kickstand, turning it around before swinging his leg over. It's only when he's sitting that he looks over and realizes that Hux hasn't moved, helmet still cradled in his hands. 

 

"What are you waiting for?" Kylo means it to be a question, but it comes out more aggressive than he intends. He grimaces, but Hux just smiles and puts the helmet on. He steps close and then swings one long, slim leg over the back of the bike. He settles himself, crotch right up against Kylo's ass, the tops of his thighs touching the back of Kylo's, his hands come up and grip tight at his hips. Kylo has to take a deep breath. What is Hux playing at? He shakes his head and starts the bike, pulling his legs up and taking them out of the parking lot. 

 

+++

 

Kylo is hyper aware of every single place Hux is touching him. The press of his chest against his back. The place where their hips are lined up. The hot brand of Hux's hands against his hips. Then Hux moves one of his hands, sliding it down until it’s splayed over the top of Kylo’s thigh, thumb digging into the space between his crotch and his thigh, and Kylo doesn’t know how he keeps them traveling straight on the road. Dimly, he’s aware that he doesn’t know where Hux lives, he’s aware of the throb of arousal where his jeans are pulling tight across his dick, the rumble of the motorcycle between his legs vibrating through him. 

“Take the next right,” Hux yells, to be heard over the sound of the motor, of the wind whipping past them. Kylo follows his directions, all the while aware of the hand burning a brand into his leg, where the fingertips brush inside. He’s driving on autopilot, aware of the danger but immune to it. 

 

“It’s the green one, on the left,” Hux says finally, and Kylo slows them down. He thinks he feels Hux rock his hips forward, pushing even tighter up against him, but he has to be imagining it. He pulls into the wide driveway, which leads to a two car garage. He sets a foot down, holding them steady, turns the engine off, and waits for Hux to dismount. He hears the snap of the helmet clasp, but Hux stays, hot along his spine, for a long moment before he leans back and gets off the back. Kylo closes his eyes and takes a second to breathe, then steps forward, off the seat, so he can rock the bike back onto its center stand. He unclasps his helmet and shakes out his hair and then finally looks up. He’s self-conscious, uncertain what he’s supposed to do, now. Why did Hux bring him here? What was he doing?

 

Hux is staring at him, expression smug and inscrutable. He looks like a model, like he should be standing in front of this house in a J.Crew ad, nothing at all like Kylo, who seems out of place everywhere in their suburban town. Kylo hangs his helmet on the handle bar and reaches out for the one in Hux’s hands. Hux holds onto it for a second, staring Kylo down and says, “Come in and have a drink,” before he lets go of the helmet, the sudden release of pressure almost knocks Kylo over. Hux doesn’t move until Kylo nods at him, and then busies himself with putting the helmet away under the seat. When he turns back around, Hux is standing on the front steps to his house, front door ajar. 

 

“No one’s home, come on.”

 

+++

 

Kylo hates the semi-open floor plan of the houses in this neighborhood. They’re all vaulted, 2-floor foyers with ostentatious staircases leading up and kitchens with a “brunch nook” separated out by a granite topped kitchen island, and more space on each floor than any family can reasonably occupy or allocate. In every new house he visits (usually under duress during “block parties” accompanying his mother, feeling on display the whole time) he inevitably thinks of his maternal grandfather’s old colonial style house. A century and a half old, it had modest ceilings and master bedrooms rooms with half the square footage of the kitchen in one of these contemporary monstrosities. There are barely any doors in these houses; they echo in a way that reminds Kylo of being horribly exposed. 

 

But Hux has lead him into a den at the back of the house, stopping in the kitchen to pour two glasses of orange juice, but he doesn’t hand one to Kylo, who trails after him. In the den, he puts them on little cabinet, whose sliding door reveals a plethora of alcohols contained in bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Kylo’s had wine with dinner at holidays, snuck rum into his eggnog at Thanksgiving, he even snuck some of his dad’s whiskey into a cheap flask he bought online because it looked cool. It burned all the way down and tasted bitter, but he didn’t hate the way it made his arms feel hot and heavy and made his fingers tingle. 

 

Hux pulls out a bottle of Grey Goose and pours a healthy slug into each glass, before turning around and handing one to Kylo, who is sitting awkwardly on the couch that faces the cabinet and the unnecessarily large flat screen that takes up the rest of the wall. Hux sits on the other side of the couch and takes a long swallow from his glass. He laughs at Kylo’s own tentative sip. It tastes like orange juice, except that it prickles his tongue and feels warm all the way down, despite the chill of the liquid. 

 

“Go on, drink up,” Hux says and takes another drink. Kylo doesn’t want to seem childish, and he has done this before, well, not this exactly, but the point stands. He takes a larger sip this time, and hopes that he isn’t flushing. 

 

“Thanks,” he says, because he can’t think of anything else to say. Hux has him wrong-footed, confused. For all that they’ve shared classes and hallways for the last four years, they’re complete strangers. That Hux decided he wanted –something– from Kylo is confusing at best and distressing at worst, and the way he’d put his hand on Kylo’s leg on the ride over… He feels himself grow hot all over again at the thought. 

 

Hux smiles at him and takes another drink, and Kylo realizes Hux has finished his drink, while Kylo’s barely started his own. Hux gets up and pours the vodka straight into his glass. Kylo takes another drink, hoping for what little dutch courage he can materialize out of his glass. Hux turns around, taking a drink of the clear liquid. Kylo doesn’t know how he keeps his face so impassive, it can’t taste good. This time, when Hux sits down again, he’s got his leg pressed up against Kylo’s, that same contact heat from the ride over. Kylo takes another drink to distract him from the way he’s only feeling warmer and how that heat is swirling in his stomach, hot from the vodka, hot in his groin from what, he can no longer kid himself, is undeniably arousal. 

 

Hux knocks back the rest of his drink and leans over Kylo to put his glass on the side table. Kylo presses himself back into the corner of the couch, which only gives Hux more room to claim for himself. He plants one hand between Kylo’s thigh and the arm of the couch and pushes himself up into Kylo’s space. 

 

“Why don’t you finish up?” Hux asks and Kylo nods before knocking back whatever is left of the vodka and OJ in his glass which he puts down next to Hux’s empty one. Now his hands are empty and he has no idea what to do with them. Hux pulls himself more fully into Kylo’s lap, throwing a leg over until he’s straddling him. Uncertain, Kylo brings his hands up to Hux’s hips, feeling the rough cotton weave of the polo and the shape of Hux’s belt and the smooth warmth of his khakis. Hux plants his hands on either side of Kylo’s head, on the back of the couch, and suddenly he’s leaning forward and bringing their mouths together. 

 

Kylo’s done this before, too. It was the summer after freshman year and the last time his parents sent him off to summer camp, the place out in the wilderness run by his Uncle Luke. He’d still gone by Ben, back then. It was after that summer that he switched to Kylo, spending most of his time talking with the Knights, retreating from his family. As campers, they played spin the bottle after lights out and he must have locked lips with half the kids there with him. During Seven Minutes in Heaven, where they locked pairs of people in the boat house down near the lake and he kissed one of the girls, and she put his hand on her boob and urged him to feel her up, he realized he was too terrified by the prospect to really enjoy it, even if the kissing was nice. He worried about the way it felt just as easy, and nice, when he’d had to kiss the boys, despite the oohs and ahhs and the cat calls of the other kids. 

 

Kissing Hux is nothing like that. It’s neither tentative nor frantic. Kylo isn’t quite sure what he’s doing, but Hux clearly knows. He goes slow and pulls back just far enough to discourage him when Kylo tries to push his tongue into Hux’s mouth. They stay like that, barely touching anywhere but for Kylo’s hands on Hux’s hips and their lips, pressed together, alternating their attentions between top and bottom lip, Hux leading Kylo through it slowly. 

 

Kylo is burning, desire like he hasn’t felt ever – except for after he wakes from a certain kind of dream – coursing through him and making him hard, making him want things he isn’t sure how to ask for. He has a vague idea of what they might do. Hux opens his mouth and pushes his tongue past Kylo’s lips to run it against Kylo’s tongue and Kylo suddenly remembers the things he heard in the locker room about Hux’s mouth, the things Hux does with his mouth at parties in dark bedrooms with people who aren’t Kylo. He can’t help the little whimper of desire that rises in his throat. Hux takes one of his hands off the back of the couch and places it along Kylo’s jaw, one of his fingers rubbing into that soft spot between his jaw and his ear. Kylo pulls him closer and Hux sits down, ass against Kylo’s cock, his crotch pressing into Kylo’s abdomen and nothing has ever felt this good. 

 

Hux pulls his mouth away and presses it against Kylo’s neck, kissing and sucking and biting and Kylo can’t help but push his hips up against Hux’s ass, desperate for something, anything, against his cock. He’s breathing hard and he can’t believe he’s here, that this is happening. Hux is grinding his ass down, circling his hips, and Kylo is worried that he’s going to embarrass himself, come in his pants like an admission of his inexperience. Hux mumbles something into the skin of his neck and it takes Kylo a second to realize they might have been words.

 

“What was that?” he asks, and he’s surprised by the sound of his own voice. 

 

“I want to suck you off,” Hux says, unwilling to pull away from his skin, breathing the words against Kylo’s ear before he closes his lips around it, tonguing it and making Kylo shudder. He didn’t know that about his ears. He lets out his own little helpless noise at the confession, pulling Hux down against him, trying to get more friction. 

 

Hux pulls back, his breath cool against the spit damp shell of Kylo’s ear, “Can I? Can I suck you off?”

 

“Oh god,” Kylo says. “Please. But–” he can’t quite bring himself to confess. Hux pulls away, sitting with his weight on Kylo’s cock, and it’s almost uncomfortable, almost too much pressure, but for the first time since this started he doesn’t feel like he’s on the edge of coming all over himself. 

 

“What?” Hux asks, but he’s distracted, can’t pull his face away from Kylo’s, running his nose along his jaw. Kylo flushes with embarrassment rather than arousal and swallow around his anxiety. 

 

“I just. I haven’t…” he trails off. 

 

“Haven’t…?” Hux asks. But Kylo can only shake his head, face tilted away from Hux. “Haven’t done this before?”

 

Kylo closes his eyes against the truth and nods. 

 

“Really?” Hux asks. “You wear those jeans that cling in all the right place, you ride a bike. I figured you go into town on the weekends. Got people lining up for the honor…” He trails off, his teeth scrape along the tendon in Kylo’s neck. 

 

Kylo shakes his head.

 

“No,” he scrapes out. “I’ve never–” 

 

He doesn’t know who this person is that Hux imagines him to be. It’s not the one he is; the shut-in, without friends, who’s only ever gotten tipsy at family get-togethers, whose greatest conquest involved feeling up a girl he wasn’t into at summer camp when he was fifteen. 

 

“Mm,” Hux hums against his skin. “Let’s do something about that.”

 

He slips backward, pulling away from Kylo, and he gets a glimpse of where Hux’s hard on is pressing against the cut of his slacks. Hux slips off the couch, kneeling on the floor, pushing Kylos’ knees apart. Kylo’s got one hand on the couch next to him and he’s pressed the other one over his cock trying to get some little edge of relief, trying to shift his hips until the tightness of his pants is less uncomfortable. That discomfort is the only thing that’s keeping him grounded, reminding him that this is really happening, that this isn’t just some vivid sex dream brought on by his chronic celibacy. 

 

The feeling of Hux’s hands pushing his out of the way brings the moment into sharp focus. He tries to make room for Hux’s fingers where they press into his belly, trying to undo the button on his jeans. They’re not the ultra skinny ones he used to wear, a few years ago, the kind that looked painted on, but they’re tight nonetheless and it’s the first time he regrets the way they cling to his hips and his ass. But Hux gets them undone and smirks triumphantly up at him. He licks his lips and they look slick and red and Kylo feels another wave of arousal crash over his head. Hux pulls his pants down, not too far, just far enough that they’re not pulled tight across his front. Kylo brings his hand up to his mouth, the one that isn’t currently trying to put holes in the couch cushion with how hard he’s gripping it. He presses the back of his hand against his teeth, trying to hold himself together, trying to keep himself from saying anything embarrassing, from making any noise. 

 

Hux’s fingers slide into the slit in his briefs, drawing his cock out, freeing it from where it was trapped – hot, damp, uncomfortable – against the crease of his thigh. It’s flushed, the head a dusky pink, damp at the tip, it looks ridiculous sticking out of his underwear like that, but then he looks at Hux’s face. For the first time, Hux looks affected by the proceedings, his cheeks are flushed, two bright spots under his cheekbones. His eyes are fixed on where Kylo’s dick is sticking out of his pants. He looks enthralled, and it makes Kylo almost uncomfortable. No one’s seen him like this, and here is this boy, who, as far as Kylo knows, has his pick of choices staring at him like he’s something special. 

 

Hux’s breath brushes lightly over his overheated skin as he breathes out, “Oh, wow.” 

 

Kylo flexes his hips, unconsciously, desperate for something more from him. But certain that the second Hux’s mouth touches his cock it’s going to be over, already so much, too much. Hux wraps one hand around the base of Kylo’s dick, his thumb sliding down to pet over his balls, still trapped by the mess of cloth still clinging to his hips. Kylo gets caught, stuck watching the way the low light of the den catches on Hux’s pale eyelashes, his eyes looking nearly closed from Kylo’s vantage point above him, as his mouth opens and he runs the flat of his tongue along the shaft up to the head. 

 

It’s wet. It’s a little strange. It feels unbearably good, nothing like anything he’s ever felt.

 

When Hux reaches the tip, he folds his lips over and, looking up to make sure Kylo is watching, he sinks his mouth down. He sucks a little, his mouth turning into a tight, wet channel. Kylo thrust up, wanting more of that– that hot, wet, slick, tight… He feels delirious. 

 

Kylo was right.

 

Hux pulls back and the third time he goes down, when his lips meet the top of his fist, where it’s still wrapped around the base, he does something, and his mouth vibrates slightly around Kylo’s cock and he’s done. 

 

“Oh fuck,” Kylo chokes out as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. Only with the euphoria does he realize how strung out he’d been feeling. His eyes are scrunched closed on instinct, and when he opens them again, Hux is grimacing slightly as he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. 

 

“Oh my god,” Kylo says. He wants to apologize. He’s pretty sure he should have said something. He can feel himself going red. Hux barely even touched him and then he didn’t even have the decency to warn him before blowing his load. He unclenches the hand that hasn’t released its death grip on the couch cushion, stretches it out. He looks down at his lap, and if he thought he looked silly before it has nothing on the sight of his wet dick going soft at an angle, sticking out of his underwear. He brings a hand up to cover himself. He can’t bring himself to look Hux in the face, but that doesn’t stop him from staring at the place where Hux is still hard in his slacks, the heel of one of his palms pressed against his crotch. 

 

“Uhm,” he offers. “Is there, uh, something I can do for you?”

 

Kylo is sure he sounds like a moron, but the thought of not offering seems worse, somehow. 

 

“Yeah,” Hux says, and he sounds breathy. Kylo isn’t sure what’s got him worked up, seeing as he barely lasted a full minute. But Hux gets to his feet, pulling his own pants open, his belt making the fly of his pants gape once the zipper is pulled down. He returns to his previous position straddling Kylo’s lap. He pushes his boxers down until his cock and balls hang over the waistband, one hand fisted loosely around the shaft. 

 

Kylo’s never been this up-close and personal with any dick that wasn’t attached to his own body, but he thinks that if they all look like Hux’s – a contrast in colors, pale and pink, complementary, with a charming curve upwards – he might very much like to get to know a few more. He wants a better look, now that he’s no longer lost in the haze of his own arousal, so he pushes Hux’s hand out of the way to replace it with his own. 

 

It’s so warm, and he trails his fist up so that he can slide the skin around the shaft down, exposing the rest of the flushed head of Hux’s cock. He doesn’t hold it too tightly, but tries to give Hux something to push against, working his cock, trying to find the counterpoint to the little twitches of Hux’s hips. He can hear Hux’s rough breathing above him and when he looks up he’s gifted with the slack, rapturous expression on his face. The flush has spread from his cheeks, down his throat and Kylo wants to put his mouth everywhere that pink reaches. 

 

He lifts the hand that isn’t occupied with Hux’s cock and runs it up the line of Hux’s throat to curve around and sink into the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulls Hux down, biting along Hux’s jaw, desperate to possess that blissful expression, to own Hux in this moment, and glut himself on Hux’s pleasure. Hux kisses him hard and wet and messy, starts fucking into the circle of Kylo’s fingers with intent. 

 

Hux lets out a fractured groan and a few choice blasphemous phrases and Kylo feels the pulse of his cock and the hot weight of come landing on his shirt. 

 

Kylo pulls his hand away carefully. Hux collapses to one side, leaning back into the couch next to Kylo, dick still hanging out of his pants. Kylo looks away and goes about tucking himself away. He doesn’t manage to get himself zipped or buttoned, because Hux lets out a groan and drags him against over by his shirt, mouth eagerly seeking Kylo’s. 

 

He pulls away, lips running along Kylo’s cheekbone, teeth scraping against his ear to whisper, hot against his ear, “I knew you’d be good.” 

 

Kylo flushes. He doesn’t know what to say. At that moment, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. A split second later it starts playing the annoying little ditty he’s set as a ringtone for his dad. 

 

“Fuck,” he says as he fumbles it out. “Hey, Dad.” He desperately hopes his dad can’t hear what he’s just done, that he doesn’t just know, the way parents sometimes seem to. He can barely hear his dad over the vague panic in his head. He can’t look away from Hux’s dark, satisfied gaze. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be home soon. I promise.” He hangs up. 

 

“I gotta get home,” he says to Hux.

 

Hux laughs at him, again. Kylo finds that he doesn’t really mind, not when he knows how good that mouth feels around his cock. He smiles a bit in response. 

 

“Come around next weekend,” Hux says, pulling his underwear up and over himself. He stretches, languid. Kylo stands up from the couch, awkward. “People will be coming over on Saturday night, but you should swing by earlier.” 

 

“Okay,” he says. He doesn’t know what people will say if he sticks around for the party. But he can’t turn down the chance to have Hux like this again. Not knowing what he tastes like when he’s about to come. 

 

+++

 

It’s only when he catches sight of himself in the sideview mirror on the motorcycle that Kylo sees the hickey on the side of his neck and remembers the come drying on his shirt. He strips it off and turns it inside out, hoping none of Hux’s neighbors are looking out their windows to see him half-naked in the driveway. Hopefully he can put Han off long enough to grab a scarf before they sit down to eat. 

 

Nevertheless, as Kylo drives down the street, heading towards home, he can’t keep the smile off his face. 

 

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://persephassax.tumblr.com/) (i'm also lurking badly on twitter). i'm always happy to swap head canons and love getting prompts.


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